A Clerics Beginning
by Vigieff
Summary: I wrote this short story a while ago and decided to post it. Enjoy.


Part 1- A Clerics Beginning

Like most young Elvaan boys, Dravilmauz was eager to taste the thrills of adventuring. Today he had turned twelve, his last year before becoming an adult, born to serve the crown of San d'Oria. To celebrate, much to his mother's dismay, Dravilmauz's father gave him his first sword. With Onion sword in hand, Dravilmauz and his closest friend Narcheral, jubilantly tested out its skill.

"This sword is SO amazing!" Dravilmauz huffed between swings as he was battling a rather intimidating forest hare.

"I can't believe your father actually _gave_ you a sword. My dad gave me old dusty scrolls."

Narcheral pulled out two scrolls of tattered parchment from his leather side bag. He brushed back his long black hair and tucked it behind his large ears. At this age, all Elvaan boys looked quite silly. Their ears were fully grown and noticeably disproportionate to their heads.

"_The Beggar and the Boggart_ and _Whisper Pixie, Whisper_?" Narcheral read, "You've got to be kidding me?"

"Well," Dravilmauz still in battle with the same forest hare. "Maybe your father thinks you ought to attend the monastery rather than become a Knight of San d'Oria," he heckled.

"What! No way. I am totally going to become a Knight of San d'Oria, just you wait and see."

Dravilmauz swung hard and connected beautifully with the forest hare's neck. It let out a small shriek and then fell dead. Dusting off his white linen shirt, he then picked up the beast by its long ragged ears and walked over to where Narcheral sat.

"We'll have roasted hare tonight!" he said with a large grin as he displayed his catch to his friend.

Narcheral said nothing, but sat staring down at his dusty brown boots, thinking about how unfair it was that he didn't have a sword. Noticing his lack of enthusiasm, Dravilmauz dropped the hare in a patch of clovers and sat next to his friend.

"You know," he began as he removed his navy blue cloth cap to reveal his white ruffled hair, "You'll probably get one next year when you turn twelve." He wiped his wide brow with the cap.

"Psh," Narcheral was clearly irritated. "My father couldn't even afford a sword if he wanted to get me one. All he cares about are his stupid stories and his stupid vegetables."

Dravilmauz looked over at Narcheral. He was trying to hold back his tongue, but couldn't do it any longer. He was tired of Narcheral's self-pity and jealously.

"Are you seriously talking right now? Hush up before more poison extrudes from your mouth." His eyes had narrowed and he was speaking softly. "You speak ill of your father after all he's done for you."

"I have right to speak," Narcheral retorted with defense. "He is _my_ father, not yours."

This must have been the final swing because Dravilmauz's young, soft voice grew with intensity.

"You have no right!" he spat, "None what so ever."

Dravilmauz stood up. Narcheral could see that over the past six months his companion had out grown him by five inches. "Your father suffers from the loss of his love and then carries on for years, feeding you, clothing you, and making sure that you are kept well, while pressing on that he is fine. How dare you say he cares only of his stories and vegetables? By Altana, you are daft."

Dravilmauz withdrew and walked away from Narcheral, leaving the navy blue cap sitting by his side. He wasn't done yet. "And furthermore," he said turning around pointing his lengthy index finger and this time softly saying, "the next time you decide to call yourself my friend and proceed to fester in jealously on my birthday, think twice, because I'll not have it, you hear?"

True strike, but Narcheral was too upset to consent to his friend. He could see that his extra year of maturity also surpassed his. He was acting foolishly, but was too embarrassed to admit it. Narcheral just sat there, head down like a scolded pup.

Dravilmauz looked up through the canopy of trees in West Ronfaure. The sun had almost set and the Eastern star was already shining bright green. Knowing that the forest was not the safest place to be after dark, Dravilmauz picked up his prize and began to walk.

"It's getting late," he said as he kept walking. "We must return before the sun has set or they'll have closed the gates."

Narcheral stood, grabbed Dravilmauz's cap, and slung his leather bag over his shoulder. He began to walk slowly at first, but then more quickly as he noticed that Dravilmauz was not going to slow down to talk. He wanted to apologize, but that was always a hard thing to do. Despite this, he knew that like all the other fights they had had, tomorrow would bring a different day and Dravilmauz would no longer be angry with him. It was always this way. Dravilmauz was a kind friend who rarely kept a grudge.

After some effort, Narcheral finally caught up with Dravilmauz. Still, no one spoke. They passed around one of the small outcroppings and stopped. Dravilmauz dropped behind a bush, taking Narcheral with him.

"Altana! What is it?" Narcheral said with surprise.

"Quiet." Dravilmauz's ice blue eyes looked focused. "Didn't you hear that?"

Narcheral crouched and listened. After a short time, he shook his head.

"I heard something from over there," he pointed, "across the road."

"It's probably a hare or just a scarab beetle. You know how they like to burrow."

Dravilmauz's eyes refocused. After watching the spot and deciding it was safe to pass, they proceeded home, away from the path.

They were less than ten minutes away from the Northern San d'Orian gate. The sun had set and only the gleam of the moon lit their path.

"We're going to be in so much trouble," vocalized Dravilmauz.

"The gate guard will let us in, won't he?" Narcheral's naiveté was showing. He had never been outside the Kingdom walls after dark. This experience scared him, but it was also a bit exciting.

"Yeah, but the guard will defiantly file a report and our parents will hear about it."

Narcheral thought about this. He knew that receiving an incident report from a guard would not bode well with his father, and especially not with Dravilmauz's parents.

"We'd better hurry then."

As they ran, Narcheral sensed something in the pit of his stomach. He thought it was the fear of getting in trouble, but soon he found that it was something else, something far worse.

Dravilmauz noticed it first, walking out from the dark canopy of the trees onto the path ahead of them. It was an Orc, hideous and pale green like the color of bile. Saliva dripped from its jagged teeth and a rancid smell surrounded it.

"STOP!" Dravilmauz shouted as he stretched out his arm to stop Narcheral's gate.

Panic overtook him and Narcheral began to cry. He knew that they had no chance of surviving against this massive piece of orcich fodder. Dravilmauz quickly drew his sword. He still wasn't used to the weight of medal and so the blade fell to the ground.

"What are you doing!" shouted Narcheral. "We can't fight it? We have to run."

"It will over take us if we run. You saw how it caught up with us from the bushes at the glen where we began."

Dravilmauz's words spoke true. The Orc was much faster than they were. It was also much stronger. Either decision didn't make a difference, Dravilmauz knew this. He had thought that perhaps if he fought the Orc, then Narcheral could run the remaining three hundred twenty yalms to the castle walls. Yes, this was their only hope of survival.

"Okay, Narcheral, I will attack it and you will make a run for it to the castle." He said with certainty, while his blade trembled in his arms.

"Are you daft? That's suicide!"

"It's our only chance. You need to make it to the gate guard and summon help."

"But, I can't just leave you." Narcheral was afraid, both for Dravilmauz and himself. His tears flooded down his long face and onto his green tunic.

There wasn't much time to decide. The Orc had advanced and was charging the one threat he could see, which was a small Elvaan boy with a sword. He crossed the twenty yalms within a blink of an eye and using his heavy arm, pushed Narcheral aside as a person swats at an annoying fly.

Narcheral flew back five yalms and hit the ground hard. The fall tore his trousers and his tunic was covered in blood from the Orc's massive arm, a reminder of a previous kill. He looked up and saw Dravilmauz doing the best he could to parry the beast.

"Go!" Dravilmauz shouted as he swung the sword blindly. Luckily, it stuck the Orc on the leg. Thick red blood poured out of the wound.

"Grwaaa!" it shouted and grabbed Dravilmauz by the waist.

Narcheral was paralyzed with fear. His mind was telling him to run, but his body was frozen in place. What he saw next surprised him even further. Dravilmauz still seemed focused. His eyes were fierce and it appeared as if he were drawing on some kind of inner strength. Held aloft by the giant orc, he drew his sword high above his head, grasped the hilt with both hands and swung it down upon its melon shaped head. As he did, he shouted, "For the Goddess!"

The impact was great. The Orc flung Dravilmauz against a tree, rendering him unconscious. It grasped at its left eye, howling as blood spurted from it. Narcheral, finally noticing the felling coming back into his body stood up. He saw his friend lying on the ground as if dead. Intense emotions began to surge within him. It was Dravilmauz's birthday, they had just had an argument which had not been resolved, and now they were both about to die. _This is not happening_, he thought.

The Orc seemed to have refocused his attention on the afflicter of his pain. It charged towards the body of Dravilmauz.

Narcheral shouted, "Dravil! Get up!" and as he did, an immense surge or energy erupted from him, like the white lights of the Northern sky. Instantly, Dravilmauz awoke and regained his composure, dazed but not defeated.

The Orc attacked much faster this time, but its vision was poor due to its wound. Dravilmauz dealt a swift slash to its arm. The impact sent vibrations down the blade into his own arm. The Orc swung low, to which Dravilmauz dove out of the way. He swung his sword again with all his might, hitting a couple times, but largely missing. The Orc was too powerful. He hit Dravilmauz on the head with his fist, though it might as well have been a club. Dravilmauz fell, lifeless.

"No!" cried Narcheral. His eyes were red with tears.

What the Orc did next is so despicable, that it hardly bares retelling. It picked up Dravilmauz's body and turned to face the remaining Elvaan. Narcheral would never be able to erase this from his memory. The beast grabbed the body with both hands and bit it as if it were a piece of dhalmel steak. Blood burst from the corpse and the Orc went into a frenzy feeding on it.

Narcheral's instincts kicked in and he began to run. Without looking back, he sprinted faster than he had ever run before. His legs were throbbing and his shoulder stung from the blow he had taken from the Orc. He finally saw the Kingdom walls in sight. His body began to slow and his lungs burned. Narcheral's mind pushed him to speed up. Even with the castle in sight, the Orc could still be only just a few yalms behind.

The gate guards were alarmed to see such a young, battered Elvaan outside the kingdom walls this late. They rushed towards Narcheral. When they finally reached him, Narcheral collapsed into one of the guard's cold, metal-coated arms.

"By Altana, what has happened to you?" one asked.

Narcheral's chest heaved. He felt his consciousness slipping away. The words only sputtered out, "Orc…Dravilmauz…attack…help…" Then, all went dark.


End file.
